The Death of Sansa Stark
by Quindecim
Summary: Passionate hatred overtakes duty, and one action from a girl without hope changes the world. AU in which Sansa doesn't act the proper lady and throws herself and Joffrey from the ramparts during the episode Fire and Blood(1x10). The Lannisters have lost their leverage, a very young boy must now sit the Iron Throne, and the North smells blood.
1. The Death of Sansa Stark

Edit: I stopped being lazy and decided to change this chapter's text format. Hope it makes it less annoying to read.

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><p>The days that followed her father's execution, Sansa Stark, beauty of the North, and once proud daughter of Lord Eddard Stark &amp; Lady Catelyn Tully had been consumed by despair and betrayal to be left a twisted malformed shell. Her grief had festered and carried its own odor. The odor even seeped into her blankets, and her entire chambers seemed to burn from her caustic stench.<p>

Sansa no longer wiped away the tears that trailed down her face; even in sleep her eyes seemed to be a gaping wound that would not heal. Her lifeblood spilled and stained, leaving a once unblemished face red and blotchy with two thin slashes that ran down her cheeks.

She could not bring herself to rise from bed, but envisioned something monstrous would she gaze into a looking glass. A fitting reflection to how she felt inside. When Sansa inevitably drained her strength from weeping, she would then fall into an uneasy sleep. Whenever her eyes closed and her chambers bled away, the dreams would start.

Sansa's dreams always began with the sound of footsteps, the slapping sound of leather against stone echoed across the tower's walls. Each heavy-footed step pierced through suffocating silence, a warning louder to her than any bell heard from the Great Sept of Baelor. The sound alerted her to the horrors which slowly approached the threshold of her chamber.

Sometimes she pled for mercy, for help, she cried and cried. Sometimes she used the furniture of her chambers in an attempt to bar the door. Other times she tried to hide in shadows; and occasionally she was even brave enough to try and run into the darkness as her door opened. All the same, Ser Ilyn Payne always walked through that door to come for her.

He was much too strong to run past or fight. There was no place to hide from his cold dead eyes. The knight slashed through tables and chairs, any object that blocked his path to Sansa. Worst of all, he always carried her father's great sword still stained with his dried blood; and her pleas for mercy or her cries of help fell on deaf and uncaring ears. In the end, there was only death.

Recently her dreams opened another passage to escape Ilyn Payne's blade. The sound of boots climbing their way up the tower was heard, same as always. When the door was forced open however, this Sansa did not stiffen then curl into herself like a frightened child. This Sansa Stark's fear was buried, her stance tall, the tears were wiped clean from her eyes, and her arms were spread open before she jumped from the tower window. She became free.

It troubled her that she discovered, perhaps that wouldn't be so terrible. She imagined her broken body on the stones below; a shattered innocence to shame and expose the Lannisters as monsters. The girl in her wondered if her tale would become some tragic song, told to generations of Starks to come, but they were only dreams. When they came for her, she was unprepared and completely unaware. There were no footsteps.

_"Get up! You will attend me in court this afternoon."_ The piercing voice of her betrothed, Joffrey Baratheon, greeted Sansa and tore through the fog of her slumber within a heartbeat.

Her body instinctively stiffened as she forced herself to look upon the hateful gaze of her husband to be. _"See that you bathe and dress as befits my betrothed. Your Northern traitor stench disgusts me! I can't have a queen that smells worse than my dog,"_ screeched Joffrey with whiny annoyance.

Sansa weakly pled to be left alone, she had not the strength for her king this morning. She knew better than to seek any sort of mercy from this monster, he had taught her that sharp lesson when he took her father's head; but still the words left her mouth before she could swallow such foolishness, _"No. Please. I beg of you my prince."_

Sansa knew her mistake for certain when she saw Joffrey's nostrils flare and his gaze upon her burned with even greater loathing than moments before. _"I am king now stupid girl! Dog! Get her out of bed."_

Only then had Sansa realized that Joffrey and she had not been alone in her chambers. Her king's dreadful stare never left Sansa, even as he shouted commands, so her eyes frantically searched from one end of her chambers to the other. She was terrified Ilyn Payne might have emerged from the darkness, ready to take her head. Her panic subsided slightly when she realized her nighttime tormenter was not present. Instead Joffrey was accompanied by his sworn shield Sandor Clegane, and Ser Meryn Trant of his grace's Kingsguard.

The hound was surprisingly gentle in how he removed Sansa from the bed, especially for a man with such a fierce reputation. Sansa felt the change as her body stiffened to stone from the contact. She could not, would not trust gentle touches or kind words in this place. Lannisters were all liars.

Sansa became so entangled in warring emotions that her second mistake of the morning was made as vehement thoughts shot from her mouth._ "I did as the queen asked! I wrote what she told me! I won't do any treason; I just want to go home!" _Sansa panted momentarily after shouting, she looked down as fresh tears rolled down her face.

Her gaze returned to Joffrey before she shouted even louder than before, _"I don't want to marry you! You chopped my father's head off! You… you promised you'd be merciful!"_

Joffrey's sneer to her words was instantaneous and his response ugly. _"He was a traitor. I never promised to spare him, and I **was** merciful. If he wasn't your father I would have had him tortured and flayed... or fed to wild dogs. He was given a clean death instead."_

As Joffrey finished his sentence, a proud smirk twisted his features; and Sansa wondered with shuddering disgust if he was truly delusional enough to believe he had actually been merciful. How had Sansa been blind for so long, the monster that she called her betrothed was so poorly concealed, how could she have ever found him handsome? _"I hate you,"_ whispered Sansa.

A heartbeat passed, then with more conviction she said, _"I hate you."_

The revelation was a powerful tempestuous force within Sansa, and she could do nothing to contain the words bursting within her. The strike from Ser Meryn that followed her statement let her know that she had made her third mistake of the morning; Sansa could not bring herself to regret the decision.

The moments between Joffrey's departure and the arrival of her bed maids passed far too quickly for Sansa. She yearned for silence once more, wished to stare at the walls; but as the maids nervously paced the entrance to her chamber, Sansa gathered the strength of will to politely ask for hot water to bathe and powders to hide her bruise.

Her maids cleaned the blood from her face, washed and brushed her tangled dirty hair, and prepared the hot bath. They did not speak, nor did Sansa wish them to. After all these were Lannister servants; she had no true companions anymore, they had all been taken from her.

The hot water made her think of Winterfell and its hot springs as it kissed her flesh. She took momentary strength and comfort in the memory, all she would ever have now was her memories. Even amongst old memories Sansa remained uncomfortable within the stifling silence created by her maids' presence and kept her eyes focused on the water as she bathed.

She was shocked by how dark the water grew as she scrubbed the filth from her body; and then she remembered, she had not bathed since the day her father died. Since the day Joffrey killed her father. Shortly after her bath there was an impatient knock on the door as Sansa finished changing. One of the maids opened the door and Ser Meryn Trant pushed his way into the room. _"My lady. His grace has instructed me to escort you to the throne room." _The way the man spoke and looked upon Sansa, it was obvious to her; the man viewed her as an object and not a person.

Any thoughts she might have held of refusing died then; this man had no qualm in striking her. Ser Meryn Trant simply did not care. He was no true knight. There were no true knights here. Sansa fought to hold back her tears as she was escorted to the Iron Throne.

When she entered, Sansa saw him first; Joffrey seated upon his throne, towering over the others in the room as he dispensed the twisted acts of cruelty that delighted him to call justice. Joffrey's attention was fixated on a very pale and nervous looking tavern singer, so her arrival went unnoticed by her betrothed. She was almost thankful for the small blessing, until she witnessed what came next.

The singer had been accused of writing and playing a song that mocked the late King Robert. The singer was ordered at sword point to replay his work; the song that had become such a hit in the taverns of King's Landing. As the shaking singer finished, Joffrey laughed and called the entire thing amusing, the smile never leaving his face. Joffrey's response earned a nervous chuckle and a hopeful widening of the eyes from the singer; his face however twisted to horrified understanding and despair when Joffrey then asked still wearing that ugly little sneer of his, _"Which do you prefer, your fingers or your tongue?"_

It was not until Joffrey had concluded hearing petitions for the day and descended the Iron Throne that his eyes met with Sansa's. One look from the man she once foolishly thought to be in love with, and Sansa knew her day was far from finished. Joffrey seemingly always had some new torture for her. He approached her, Ser Meryn and Sandor a few paces behind their king, and spoke in a soft tone one might have mistaken as gentle and affectionate had they not known Joffrey, _"You look much better my lady. Walk with me."_

Her king wrapped his arm through her own, and Sansa was given no choice but to follow. His touch might have once thrilled and excited her, but those hands only strangled her with feelings of revulsion and hatred now. Sansa dug the nails of her free hand into her palm and drew blood. The pain she caused herself kept Sansa from wrenching free of cruel soft hands the moment his flesh made contact with her own.

They walked through the Red Keep and to the outside areas of the castle; Joffrey spoke of his upcoming name day and inquired about what gifts Sansa might be giving him. She pictured a knife through his heart, or poison in his wine, but did not voice such thoughts. As they continued their walk, Sansa suddenly realized with horrified clarity she knew exactly where Joffrey planned to take her. She regretted then that she had not told him the kind of name day gift she would like to have given him. The scared little girl bled through instead, and Sansa pled with tears in her eyes not to be taken up the steps. Joffrey threatened to have Ser Meryn drag her up the steps should she refuse; but it was the hound and three simple words that made her feet move forward. Each step was a struggle, the further she went the more steps there seemed to be. She thought the climb a nightmare, but the true horror awaited her above on the ramparts.

High above most of King's landing the world seemed open and free. Sansa saw country fields and dense forests beyond the walls. Beyond what could be seen she knew lay The North… and Winterfell. She shuddered with sadness at the thought that this wall would be the closest she would ever come to home. Childhood memories were cut down before they could truly take form by the aggravated tone of Joffrey as he asked, _"What are you looking at? **This** is what I wanted you to see. This one is your father; dog, turn it around so she can get a proper look."_

Sansa knew as king, Joffrey could force her to look at whatever he wished; but she made a promise to herself that he would not make her **see**. The head had been covered in tar in hopes of preservation; but the severed head did not look anything like her father. It did not look like Lord Eddard; the head did not even seem real. Sansa stared unblinking and unfocused upon the head for several moments before she turned to her betrothed and asked, _"How long must I look?"_

Her response visibly displeased Joffrey; and with dark cruel eyes he led her to the rest of the heads in his collection. There were many heads left on display, though she could not recognize any. Joffrey had pointed at one head and claimed that was her former Septa and mentioned another belonging to Jory Cassel, who once served as captain of her father's household guard. Joffrey had pikes reserved for his Uncles Stannis and Renly, and even one for Ser Barristan Selmy, the former Lord Commander he had decided to dismiss from service.

Next Joffrey spoke of her brother… and how he would present his head as a name day present for Sansa. She lost what little tolerance that remained and venomously spat, _"Maybe my brother will give me yours!"_ This earned her another strike from Ser Meryn, two in fact; Joffrey was quite displeased by her comment.

Sansa's head pounded, her lip was busted, and her fallen tears mixed together with the blood on her face. Joffrey looked upon her with disgust and spat in a tone full of hate, _"Gods you're all messy again! You shouldn't be crying all the time. I won't have a filthy sniveling girl as a wife. Wipe yourself!"_

Sansa did not truly hear his words however; her gaze was fixed upon the inner walkway of the wall. There was nothing but a long plunge to hard stone below. Joffrey was so close, all it would take is a shove Sansa told herself. She cared not that she would fall with him. Sansa Stark thought of her dreams, wiped the tears from her eyes and charged.

As they fell, the girl in her wondered if her tale would become a song; she heard Joffrey screaming and said, _"No it does not matter, I am free."_

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><p><em>Since my first viewing of Game of Thrones, I've wondered what would have transpired had Sansa actually killed herself and Joffrey during the rampart scene. What I've written here is just for fun and curiosity ;to see what ripple effects I imagine might have come to pass throughout Westeros had this event actually occurred. The first chapter mostly follows canon story, but any following chapters will see major divergence. Some things will remain unchanged, but the story's main focus will be on the shifts Sansa's action cause. I am a fan of both the television show and book series, so there is a good chance I will end up incorporating elements from both worlds. Everything of course belongs to George R.R. Martin; I'm just the asshole who decided to kick around his sandbox. <em>


	2. A Hound Without a Master

I wanted to have this written and posted earlier in the weekend; but unfortunately I've been sick, and a head clouded with drugs and sickness makes for unproductive days. My apologies if this chapter ends up reading awkward and unnatural as a result. Sharpeace mentioned that the last chapter's text format was annoying to read so I attempted a different format for this chapter. Hopefully it will be a little easier to read. The Cleganes have an unknown sister, so I took some liberties in creating Elinor, the youngest of House Clegane. Canonically Sandor is enamored with Sansa in more of a romantic way; I chose to take a different path and have Sansa be a reminder of his little sister instead. I like SanSan but I don't think it would have worked for this story. It might be a while before we hear from Sandor again, but I do have bigger plans for him. This chapter simply serves as an introduction to him and Elinor, whose story I will be expanding upon in later Sandor chapters. This is written just for fun and as mentioned before, all this belongs to George R.R. Martin, I'm just urinating all over his hard work :)

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><p>Elinor, his sweet little sister… Sandor Clegane did what he could to keep those memories buried deep beneath the visage of The Hound he chose to adorn; a mask that made mockery of the ideals of chivalry and knighthood that he and his sister once so adored. Two years younger than he, the two had always been the closest of siblings.<p>

As a boy Sandor dreamed, as so many children did, of becoming a famous knight renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms for honor and skill. He had imagined himself entered in the greatest of tourneys where he would come across a beautiful nobleman's daughter, and his great victory would win him her admiration, her love, and then her hand in marriage. His sister, who was his ever present shadow, of course adopted these dreams. Elinor wanted a gallant knight of her own who would be her greatest protector and eternal love.

Sandor had wanted that for his little sister; who he knew would have grown to be one of the great beauties of the Seven Kingdoms. She shared the grey eyes that both he and Gregor have; but those eyes always shone brighter than any star amongst the night sky with an innocence and kindness that might have belonged to The Maiden herself. Her long light brown hair was several shades lighter than his and Gregor's. He often told Elinor it was her inner light, which was so effulgent and pure, that made her hair so much lighter than the rest of the family. Sandor did not like thinking of the sister he failed; and so he kept himself drowned in red, in blood and wine.

Sansa Stark often reminded Sandor of the sister he lost; the two did not share much in common in appearance other than both being tall and beautiful, but their personalities were almost one in the same. At first the similarities angered Sandor, and he used The Hound to ensure he was feared by Sansa, that she would keep a distance from him. It did not take long however before his gaze begun to seek out the girl; haunted by her interactions with family, friends, and servants. To Sandor, Sansa was the ghost of his beloved sister Elinor, of the woman she would have become. He often spent his days at Winterfell drunk on wine to repress the blackness and bile of his past as a result.

Once he returned to King's Landing with the royal family and the Starks, things became easier for Sandor. He had his own duties to attend, and the Starks had their household guard that ensured the safety of Sansa and her family. Joffrey knew Sansa feared Sandor, so he was often sent away when Joffrey and Sansa were together; all part of Joffrey's role as the kind prince. Sandor's short reprieve from torturous memories was not to last however; with the death of Eddard Stark, and the crowning of Joffrey Baratheon, everything changed.

Sandor had thought Sansa's similarities to Elinor were terrible for him, but it was a minor burn compared to the hellfire of Joffrey's cruelty that desired the scorching of everything that made Sansa beautiful to leave naught but ashes. Every strike, every tear shed, every indignity Sansa faced was akin to nightmares of Elinor's inner light snuffed out far too early by a cruel world. Sansa Stark had become a caged little bird; wings clipped and forced to chirp only the songs that pleased the nobility. He hated this, and despised Joffrey for it. Sandor kept himself drowned in wine to dull the pain of service, to try and forget the vacant blue eyes that once held so much hope and wonderment.

Sandor had cursed his weakness; because of it he failed Sansa just as he failed his sister. The morning on the ramparts he had been drunk, Sandor knew Joffrey planned to force Sansa to look upon the severed head of her father; and so he drank far too much Dornish sour red to cope with his day. Had he not been muddled with a head full of wine he would have been quick enough to stop Sansa, or at least catch her before she went over the wall with Joffrey. Had he not been so shackled by his own weakness, he would have honored the ideals he and his sister once shared; and he would have taken Sansa far away from the cruelty of the Lannisters back to The North where she would have truly effloresced.

Cersei Lannister may have been a hysterical mess at the death of her son, but it had done nothing to quell the woman's rage. It had taken but hours for the queen to issue warrants for the arrest of Ser Meryn Trant and Sandor on the charges of treason. Sandor knew the Lannisters were snakes, years of service had taught him that much, but he would have damned himself to the worst of the seven hells before letting the death of Sansa Stark be twisted into a tale that fit whatever Lannister agenda would make Cersei's deranged golden son into a victim.

Cersei had sent a group of eight gold cloaks to arrest Sandor, proving to him that she was truly the fool he knew her to be. If Ser Barristan Selmy had killed and eluded capture from a group of three gold cloaks without a sword; what had she expected to accomplish with him, he who had a reputation as one of the most fearsome and savage fighters in Westeros. The city watch that attempted to capture Sandor were nothing but gnats before his blade and anger. With blood that dripped from his sword and scratches and filth marked across his armor he knew it was time to flee King's Landing, lest the queen send more men; but he had a small trip to be made before fleeing the city.

Sandor made his way to the Broken Anvil on the evening of his escape, a local winesink frequented by whores, singers, sailors, and the commonfolk. He carried the snarling dog helm that he was infamously known to wear so the patrons knew exactly who he was. He was taking a risk of course, but he needed every patron to know he was Sandor Clegane, former sworn shield of Joffrey Baratheon, so the truth of Sansa Stark would hold weight.

His weakness yearned for a jug of sour red, dark as blood, while he was seated amongst people drinking and gossiping, but he could no longer be weak. Sandor needed to become a man that Elinor or Sansa would have called a true knight, not a dog. He would never take the hypocritical vows so many other men made knights had taken but still in his actions he would honor them, just as he would honor Sansa by spreading the truth of the bravery of a northern girl who was far away from home and family and without hope.

The men and women of the Broken Anvil eyed him wearily initially, but all the same they listened to his tale. He told them of a girl of The North who dreamed of a handsome Southern prince riding to her home that would honor, cherish, and love her. How the girl pictured a kingdom filled with wonderment and excitement, of a place where hopes and dreams came to fruition.

He told the patrons how this kind girl instead was betrothed to a cruel prince who tried to have her younger brother murdered in his sick bed. A prince who lied about his own ineptitude, and had his betrothed's animal companion killed to make sure truth was kept a secret. Of a prince who became king and had his Kingsguard beat and humiliate the girl to relieve his frustrations and shortcomings. The kingdom she dreamed of became her prison and the girl lost her only sister the same day the new king took her father's head and called it mercy. Cruelest of all he made her look upon her father's severed head with a promise on his lips to take from her the rest of her family.

Sandor told them how this girl who had been tormented, destroyed, and forced to learn the harsh truth that life wasn't like the songs remembered the wolf blood deep within her shared by all Starks. She knew she would never return home, but she could avenge the family she had lost in the south. The girl wiped the tears from her face and showed that cruel king that even the meekest amongst the Starks still had claws. Sandor knew the truth of all this because he was the king's sworn shield and shadow and was privy to all his secrets.

As he rose from his chair and exited the establishment he left his snarling dog's head helmet so those that heard his tale would remember who he was and the truth he spoke. He had no need for the helm anymore anyways for he was no longer a Lannister dog. Under the cover of darkness and beneath a cart of the dead Sandor Clegane made his way through the River Gate and into the Kingswood where his journey as a man and not a hound would truly begin.

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><p>Thank you to everyone who followedfavorite/reviewed. Any type of feedback is much appreciated.

Next chapter will be Tyrion where the fate of Jamie Lannister shall be discerned. I'm sure most of you have no trouble guessing what happens to him, but hopefully I can still surprise you a little bit with how exactly that all goes down. This chapter lacked in dialogue but Tyrion's will likely be quite dialogue heavy. All those witty retorts are after all part of what makes Tyrion amazing ha.

Guest: I agree Joffrey was never really a player in the game, but all the same he was a piece that could be manipulated by others in the game to bring forth momentous consequences, his death messes with quite a few plans.

Ojha: I'm glad I was able to write a Sansa you could enjoy. I'm certainly a fan of Sansa and wanted to do her justice.

LadyKatherine29: Yeah I've always thought the implications of Joffrey being killed so early would have been huge. really surprised I haven't come across more fanfics that explored this idea. You are most certainly correct Robb has no reason not to kill Jamie now, and you will be seeing more on that soon enough. Cersei might just become Tywin's least favorite child :) I think Varys will thrive in the chaos this all creates, but admittedly I still haven't decided quite what to do with Baelish yet. Cersei's impetuous and foolish actions already have Sandor making problems for the Lannisters :D

et: Hopefully I will end up surprising you and others with what I have Tywin end up doing in response. You will see the beginnings of that in the next chapter.

sp90TANGo: Thanks, hope you enjoy the update. :]

jean d'arc: Thank you, definitely appreciate the feedback. The Lannisters losing their leverage is definitely going to come back and bite them in the ass in a big way.

Saint River: Yeap, as you and others have guessed Jamie is definitely not long for this world. I love Jamie and probably will end up doing a fanfic later with him since he really won't be doing much in this story :b

Little Ghost14: Definitely a Sansa fan here, so I've never really gotten all the Sansa hate either. As sad as her story is in ASOIAF, I fear the worst may yet to come for her in The Winds of Winter/A Dream of Spring. Don't break my heart George! :b


	3. Tywin's Son

**This chapter took me much longer to write than originally anticipated. I had a hard time writing Tyrion and I went through quite a few rewrites because I was unsatisfied with what I was coming up with. I eventually realized that I forgot Yoren would not be assaulted by the gold cloaks because Joffrey was killed before he could order the death of all Robert's bastards.**

**Once I remembered that little bit of information I had to change things around once again. I'm not entirely positive the timelines of travel would line up, but I believe had Yoren and the recruits not been forced off the kingsroad they would have encountered Tyrion on his way to King's Landing a bit further ahead of the Ivy Inn.**

**I also decided to omit Shae's story from my own. Without the whole Joffrey poison plot I didn't see much point in keeping Shae around. I have other plans for Tyrion.**

**text in **_italics _**is Tyrion's inner dialogue. **

**Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin; I've just kidnapped his characters and forced them to perform in my twisted little play.**

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><p>If Tyrion Lannister had never set sight upon the ugly white turrets of The Inn at the Crossroads for as long as he still drew breath; he would have been a happier man. His life unfortunately, had always been out of his hands. Happiness was unattainable to him. A lifetime spent as the unwanted son of Tywin Lannister; hidden away from the prying eyes that dwelt within Casterly Rock &amp; Lannisport and denied sight of the world at such a young age assured him of this.<p>

Even from a distance Tyrion could see the crumbling walls, made of the same hideous white stone used for the turrets, which surrounded the inn. He wondered if the inn had ever been pleasant to look upon; perhaps years ago when a different name was carved in the sign hanging above the door.

The building had once been called Bellringer Inn, many years ago, named for the bell tower that had been built on the north side of the inn by the owner of the time. Tyrion could not say if it was wise or foolish that the builder had decided to use stone of a completely different color than that of the white stone used previously.

The owner, Masha Heddle, had talked at great length of the history of her inn, and its many names. However Tyrion's attentions had been quickly enraptured by a pretty redheaded whore seated several tables across from him.

Bellringer Inn was the only name that stuck within his memory; and he had been surprised to even remember that. Tyrion had spent far too much of the evening studiously focusing on the redhead's breasts as she laughed along with drunken patrons enjoying the night.

_I might have forgotten my own name, had Masha asked in the moment,_ considered Tyrion.

He did not have a chance to bed the pretty whore on his first visit, and Tyrion had been hoping he would spend a night with her after returning from The Wall. Instead he was taken hostage by Catelyn Stark, a beautiful but much angrier redhead. He remembered how Masha had begged Catelyn and her company to take their fight elsewhere; but Lady Stark was an angry mother, and she only craved vengeance.

Masha had been wise to beseech Catelyn; Tyrion knew his father, almost as well as he knew tits and wine, and Tywin Lannister would not grant forgiveness to the people who allowed a Lannister of Casterly Rock to be taken under their roof. Tyrion had his proof not much later, when he and his mountain clansmen rode closer to the inn.

The brown-haired woman hung from a gibbet constructed only recently. Her teeth had always been stained red from the sourleaf the woman chewed; but the beating the woman received in the last moments of her life had instead painted her mouth a fouler red with dried blood.

It seemed to Tyrion that the wrong people were always punished for the schemes of others. He would have gladly seen Catelyn Stark or her insane sister Lysa Arryn hung for trying to have him killed; better yet Petyr Baelish for telling Lady Stark the assassin's blade belonged to him and starting the whole mess.

Instead he was given the corpse of Masha Heddle, disfigured and almost unrecognizable; even to Tyrion, who liked to think of himself as good with names and faces. Seeing her swing beneath the tree was hollow, an empty victory against a nonexistent enemy. For his father, this was just another Lannister lesson.

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><p>Tywin Lannister had taken Masha's inn as his own residence while he and his army remained encamped by The Trident. <em>Masha is certainly no longer around to complain about such arrangements<em>, thought Tyrion.

Dusk became nightfall before his father called the council forth; time in which Tyrion could find no trace of the redhead he wished to warm his bed. After a fruitless search, Tyrion was amongst the last of the men to enter the makeshift council chambers and a dark cloud of his frustrations and contempt followed him.

A messenger had arrived at some point during Tyrion's search with dire news. The man had ridden his horse to near-death, and the gangly unkempt messenger looked half dead from exhaustion himself.

_Jamie Captured?! No… not Jamie, he's the deadliest sword in Westeros, how could this happen? We have all underestimated Robb Stark is seems,_ Tyrion thought as he listened to the report the courier repeated to the gathered lords.

His father had taken his men on a grueling march south in an attempt to reach Riverrun before Robb Stark. All the dying and weak soldiers left behind day after day to travel as quickly as possible had been for nothing; Robb had reached Riverrun days before the assembled lords and bannermen of the Westerlands could.

"Gods, how could this happen?" Ser Harys Swyft cried out in confusion.

"I don't understand what madness would compel Jamie to separate his men into three smaller camps. Surely he should have realized how vulnerable that would make him."

_Oh he knows far more than you, you chinless craven_ thought Tyrion; _my brother is a warrior of unrivaled skill, your greatest accomplishment is being an incredibly fortunate lickspittle that fell upon where he would not otherwise belong through the luck of his daughter. _

Tyrion held tongue and raised goblet to mouth before such thoughts escaped him; and his uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, perhaps sensing Tyrion's discontent amongst the slights on his brother replied before any other. "I would have done the same," he said in a calm but firm tone; definitely far more civil than Tyrion would have replied.

"You have never seen Riverrun Ser Harys; otherwise you would have known that Jamie had little choice in the matter. The Tullys use the waters to their advantage when threatened; and a besieger would need three separate camps to have any hope of taking the castle."

Ser Kevan paused for a moment and his brow furrowed, "The Tullys forced his hand, Jamie had no other way."

The bedraggled messenger was quick to agree with Tyrion's uncle, "Too true my lord; and we had no warning of an attack. Almost all the outriders sent out disappeared and never came back with information, useful or otherwise. The one or two that did return saw nothing."

"Ser Jamie went out to the Whispering Wood to find what he thought was a small band of men that had been killing the outriders and raiding supplies the night before."

The couriers voice became shrill as he continued, "We all thought the Stark host was east of the Green Fork. We thought the killings might be Marq Piper and a small party's work; we never expected a giant wolf and waves of Stark cavalry to come crashing down upon us."

Ser Gregor Clegane's voice cut in then, his booming words as large as the man himself, "So many Starks, but the scouts who returned saw nothing? What use do such useless men need of eyes? Their eyes should have been taken from them and given to the next outrider who would put them to better use."

Tyrion turned his head ever so slightly to better gaze upon his father; interested to see how The Warden of the West might have reacted to his Mountain's words. Tyrion was unsure if he would see approval or disgust reflected in green eyes so unlike his own; what he witnessed though bothered him deeply.

Tywin Lannister was often quiet during council, preferring to listen to his lords' ideas and words first. A trait Tyrion tried to emulate. His father was silent, but his attention was absent; he was not present in the room with the others, his gaze was unfocused and far away. Tyrion grew uncomfortable and adjusted himself to look upon the sweaty and tired courier once again.

The poor messenger looked absolutely terrified to have the attention of Ser Gregor upon him; yet the man simply gulped and nodded dumbly to The Mountain's advice.

_Oh you are such a clever monster Gregor_, thought Tyrion facetiously.

A moment passed before the man gained control of his tongue, and then the messenger continued, "It was a massacre my lords, two thousand men-at-arms, and a hundred knights were either captured or killed."

Ser Kevan interrupted then, the calm tone from earlier frayed into a tense bundle of hope and fear, "What of Willem…or Genna's Boys? Have you any news of what became of them at the Whispering Wood?"

The man looked to his feet after hearing his uncle's question; Tyrion knew then the courier had nothing to say that would please Ser Kevan. The man finally raised his eyes to meet Ser Kevan's pained stare and spoke, "I am sorry Lord Kevan. Willem Lannister was fighting alongside Jamie and was captured. Ser Cleos and Tion Frey were taken in the battle as well."

Tyrion broke his silence then, "So it appears Robb Stark is not so much the green boy everyone was expecting him to be. He now holds Riverrun, so I can't imagine anything good became of the three siege camps in Jamie's absence. Enlighten us, please."

The courier was quick to reply, "Aye Lord Tyrion… two of the three camps was destroyed. The Tyroshi sellsword in command of the freeriders betrayed us and joined with Robb Stark. Their defection crumbled what little fight remained in the men; the fight was lost not soon after."

His uncle groaned, "I warned Jamie that no good would come of working with sellswords. They can never be trusted."

Tyrion decided not to comment on Ser Kevan's statement; he liked his sellsword, even if he did agree with his uncle. Instead he asked the messenger, "You said two of the three camps were lost, what of the last?"

"The eastern camp had roughly two thousand archers and spearmen; they retreated to the Golden Tooth under command of Ser Forley Prester," the messenger responded.

Ser Harys decided to cry out once more, the fear evident in his voice, "We must sue for peace!"

Tyrion was already unsatisfied and agitated; he lacked the patience to hold his tongue a second time. His response was swift; he threw the wine goblet from his hands at the wall behind Ser Harys' bald head.

The shattered cup silenced the room, and then Tyrion spoke, "There is your peace Ser Harys. You'll have an easier time drinking from the shards of my goblet than negotiating peace terms with the Starks after what King Joffrey did to Lord Eddard Stark."

The various assembled lords of the table broke out into argument then, each with their own ideas as to what should be done next. None of the shouting fools seemed to agree on a single course of action. Tyrion scoffed at the ideas spoken;

_Robb Stark will never return Jamie to us in exchange for two little girls. If we still had Lord Eddard, such a thing might have been possible, but not now,_ thought Tyrion to himself.

Tywin Lannister unleashed a mighty roar, as if he were truly a lion, and had been awoken from slumber by foolish and unlucky prey. "All of you out, now!"

Tyrion was quick to jump from his chair; he would have been the first to retreat from the room, rushing to cups, had his father not stopped him with a call, "Not you Tyrion…Kevan stay as well"

"Perhaps you are not the twisted little fool you like to appear as Tyrion. You were right about Robb Stark. Alive his father could have been used as a bargaining tool to make peace with The North. It would have given us valuable time to deal with the threat of the Baratheon brothers."

"Oh you are only partially correct father…I am after all, still a twisted little thing." Tyrion said with a mocking grin.

Tywin sighed before continuing, "As a severed head, Lord Stark holds no value; his execution was madness. What poisonous council is the boy receiving to think killing Stark a wise decision?"

"And Cersei…Cersei has always had that boy clinging to her skirts; and yet where was she as Joffrey begun his reign stumbling from one folly to the next?"

Tyrion did not respond, he did not think his father was looking for an answer; and Tywin was quick to continue on, "Your sister has kept her eyes shut as the son she claims to love above all has begun a war that will quite likely lead to his death; and yet she thinks to command me..."

Tywin's eyes were always cold, but somehow another layer of ice took shape. The tone in his voice when he spoke, as frozen as his eyes; Tyrion remembered it from his past. It had been exclusively used when talking to or about Tyrion. "Those two have made a complete mess of the rule in King's Landing; they have endangered the Lannister legacy."

"Cersei has been hiding the news of Renly, in fear that Joffrey may leave the city undefended to chase after his uncle. Cersei has allowed everything to fall at the precipice of ruin; and she thinks to **command me**, as if I were a mere servant she would command to clean up spilled wine. This will not do, I grow tired of Cersei's foolishness."

"Varys has reported that Renly Baratheon has married Margaery Tyrell; the strength of Highgarden is now bound to his cause. The important majority of the Stormlands have declared for Renly rather than Stannis as well."

"I had thought Stannis to be the greatest threat in this war, and yet he hides in Dragonstone seemingly committed to inaction. Varys speaks of whispers in his ear of a fleet being built, and sellswords being hired; but he remains unsure beyond mere rumors. The strangest of what Varys hears; a shadowbinder from Asshai is in the personal company of Stannis Baratheon giving counsel."

Tyrion looked at his father as if he had made a jape, "A shadowbinder? I never thought Stannis to be a man that believed in witches; but to actually seek out the aid of one? What madness. Are you sure Varys is not wrong in this? It is too farfetched."

Ser Kevan spoke then, "It does not matter at the moment Tyrion, there are much more pressing concerns. If we remain here we will be caught between three armies."

His father nodded in agreement, "You are correct Kevan, and so tomorrow we must march for Harrenhal."

"Tell Ser Gregor to gather his men; I want the Riverlands from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork in flames"

His uncle rose from his chair, "Then they shall burn. I will go give the command."

After Ser Kevan left the room, Tywin turned to Tyrion and said, "Your savages might relish in mindless destruction and death. Tell them they can ride with either Vargo Hoat and the brave companions or Ser Gregor."

Tyrion did not care for the suggestion at all; he would prefer to keep men loyal to him by his side. He said as much to his father, "I think I would prefer to keep my mountain clansmen with me."

Tywin's eyes sharpened at the rebuff, "Then you will control them Tyrion. I will not have the city plundered."

Tyrion was confused; he asked himself, _didn't father just say we were to march to Harrenhal?_ "The city… What city would that be father?"

"King's Landing. I am sending you to court."

Tyrion responded still confused, "And what will I be doing in King's Landing?"

"You are to act as Hand of the King in my stead. You will get Joffrey and Cersei under control. You will stop such idiocy as the dismissal of Ser Barristan Selmy from happening again; and you must begin looking into his councilors who have obviously been playing the boy false."

"Heads, spikes, walls; I have learned a few things from you father." Tyrion quipped. "But why me? Why not Ser Kevan… or anyone else for that matter?"

Tywin's face held no emotion as he gave Tyrion a long calculated look, "Because Tyrion… you **are** my son."

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><p>He set out to King's Landing the following morning; half the sky engulfed by a bright red comet. As a child Tyrion had been obsessed with dragons, he yearned for a dragon of his own. Tyrion knew such a dream would never be realized; and so he sated his curiosities of the almost mythic creatures in books.<p>

Tyrion remembered one such book where it was written that such a comet heralded the return of dragons to the world. He liked to think such a thing might be possible, but a lifetime of unhappiness and unfulfilled wishes robbed Tyrion of such naïve youthful optimism.

Most of the clansmen were either drunk or hung-over on wine and ale, and remained relatively quiet. Bronn seemed perfectly content to enjoy the silence; and so after day dreams of dragons Tyrion had time to reflect upon the conversation with his father the previous night.

"You **are** my son." His father's words swirled inside his skull, repeating over and over.

Tyrion remembered the vacant far off gaze his father had as lords argued amongst themselves the evening before. His only words of the meeting had been throwing all the men out. Tyrion began to piece together his father's peculiar behavior the more he contemplated on the night. The silence, thoughts consumed elsewhere, talking only with his uncle and himself.

_He spent the evening mourning, processed his next move, and has given Jamie up for dead, that black-hearted bastard,_ thought Tyrion bitterly.

A world without his brother in his life was not something Tyrion wished to imagine. He looked to the roads and its travelers for distraction. There were a great number of travelers along the kingsroad that day; commonfolk no doubt escaping the Riverlands to seek shelter at King's Landing. Despite the road being littered with people; there was a considerable distance of empty space between the other travelers and Tyrion's group.

_Ha! They all fear Timett, Ulf, Chella, and the other mountain clansmen. Or perhaps they are just terrified by the necklaces of severed ears worn by Chella and her Black Ears. I know the ears still make me shiver whenever I look upon them. H_e chuckled at the thought, happy for the brief distraction.

Amongst all those fearful, worn, and distrustful eyes Tyrion eventually made contact with a pair he recognized. They belonged to a man with long tangled black hair and a thick matted beard. Yoren of the Nights Watch, a grim man, but one Tyrion considered a friend.

They spoke only briefly; Yoren seemed determined to get his new recruits to Castle Black and away from the war in the Riverlands. Yoren told Tyrion of the chaos at King's Landing the day of Eddard Stark's execution when he still thought he'd be taking Lord Stark North; and warned him not to expect a warm reception when he returned to King's Landing.

_ I never expect smiling faces wherever I go. Only the whores smile for me; but really their smiles are for my gold,_ thought Tyrion distastefully.

Tyrion felt a burning at the back of his neck during the entirety of his conversation with Yoren. When he finally decided to turn behind him; a pair of grey eyes leaking with overflowing contempt had been staring at him. When he saw the boy's eyes he could not help but think of Jon Snow and Castle Black; although Jon never looked upon Tyrion with quite so much scorn.

_Perfect timing, proof to what I was just thinking. No one is ever glad to see the Imp; that boy would have my head if he could._

Travel remained mostly uneventful after his encounter with Yoren; until Tyrion stepped in horse droppings at dusk. He hopped on one foot cursing his luck and searching for anything to clean the shit from his boot; much to the amusement of his companions. Tyrion however was not among the amused.

Thankfully the Ivy Inn appeared in the distance not much later; Tyrion was excited to spend the rest of his evening in much better company, preferably company with large breasts. He would never mind a soft fleshy pillow for his bed.

When Tyrion, Bronn, and the mountain clansmen of the Vale arrived at the ivy covered inn things were not as he had anticipated; _things never seem to be as I expect, _he thought angrily.

The entire building was in chaos; patrons of the establishment and other travelers were packed into the common room of the inn surrounding an aging septon in faded brown robes with a small metal bowl chained about his neck.

The weathered man was in the middle of a speech when Tyrion approached, "The Conclave has declared the end of this long summer, and a harsh winter is coming to replace it. Lord Eddard Stark's execution at the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor has profaned the sanctity of the Sept and the Faith of the Seven."

The septon raised his hands above his head, gesturing to the sky hidden by the inn's roof. "This comet seen by all of Westeros is a harbinger of the punishment coming to the Crown for its irreverence of the gods. The Gods have found their supposed defenders of the Faith unworthy; and the god's sword now falls down upon us to slay the season and bring forth the coldest of winters to punish the undeserving."

_Seven hells, so even the Faith is turning against us because of Joffrey and Cersei's folly. How am I to-, _Tyrion was interrupted mid thought when one of the other individuals surrounding the septon disagreed, "That comet is no sign of the new gods; it's the work of the old gods and the North."

Another patron responded, "Aye… I heard the comet is Sansa Stark trying to return home to the North and her gods. The girl's long auburn Tully hair is why the comet is red."

Tyrion was confused, _Sansa Stark? What in seven hells does she have to do with a comet? _

Before Tyrion could ask a question of his own, a young woman with braided chestnut hair and sun kissed skin said, "No, no, the girl does not just return home; her purpose is greater. Haven't you heard about Sandor Clegane?"

Another woman cursed at the name Clegane, but the girl ignored her and continued on, "Sandor Clegane was there. He was there when Sansa Stark threw herself and King Joffrey from the Red Keep."

She smiled before continuing; another time Tyrion would have admired the grin. "The tales say he was in love with the king's betrothed. He hated knights, but joined the Kingsguard so he could protect Sansa. She had lost her father and family and Sandor wanted to save her from being next. "

Her smile died then, "the king was the one person he could not protect Sansa from though. King Joffrey tormented Sansa with the head of her father, and so she killed them both. Sandor Clegane could not save the woman he loved; so he made a vow of vengeance in the godswood that he and Sansa shared in secret. The gods of the North listened."

A gleam of the young woman's smile returned, "The comet is Sansa's spirit, inspiring the North to victory and she appears day and night to guide and protect her love as he travels north to Robb Sta-"

Tyrion's head was pounding, his hands thick with layers of sweat; he could listen to no more. He stepped outside the inn into the cool night air and was consumed by gnawing images of death. It was not Joffrey's broken rotting corpse he imagined; it was his brother Jamie, left as nothing but a tar covered head. _She's killed him; Sansa didn't just kill Joffrey with a shove, but Jamie too, _thought Tyrion with a horrified understanding.

"You started all this when you shoved Bran Stark from a tower. The gods have seen fit to pay you and Cersei back in kind it seems." Tyrion whispered to his brother who would never hear.

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><p>Tyrion was angry at his brother, and the poisonous love he shared with their horrible undeserving sister. Tyrion was furious with his father, for somehow predicting Jamie was to be another casualty of the war; and doing little to change that fate. He was angry with Bran Stark for catching his siblings; and Sansa Stark for condemning his brother to death. Mostly Tyrion was angry with himself, because once again life was beyond his grasp.<p>

His brother had always been there to save him from trouble; but Tyrion knew not how he could help his brother the one time Jamie was in need of rescue. Tyrion arrived to King's Landing through the Gate of the Gods with a scowl on his face and a forlorn heart.

He was desperately trying to cling to any hope that there might be some small bit of information he was missing. He looked upon the hungry faces he passed; his murder reflected in their eyes. He found it hard to have hope.

Refugees from the Riverlands were being turned from the city at the gates; the streets were overflowing with others who had been lucky enough to get into the city before the city was closed. The people Tyrion and his party came across in the Cobbler Square stared at them with open malice and distrust. He had never seen King's Landing seem so unsafe.

Tyrion never expected a city in mourning when he returned to King's Landing. Joffrey was a cruel idiot and never made friends; but such flagrant hostility from the commoners was surprising. Tyrion was amongst his clansmen so he knew he would come to no harm, yet he felt more at ease when the group arrived at the Red Keep.

He was filthy and exhausted from a long journey. The sun had just started to fall as he traversed the Red Keep, so Tyrion decided to take a room in the Royal Apartments for the night.

Tyrion had a lazy grin and thought; _I can make myself comfortable in the Tower of The Hand tomorrow. A hot bath and a beautiful woman are much too tempting for the moment._

Tyrion told Bronn to make a trip to the Street of Silk to find him a girl, but not a redhead. Tyrion was no longer in the mood for a pretty redhead after all the different tales he had heard of Sansa Stark. The sellsword demanded gold so he could get a girl for himself if he were to be making a trip in the night night to fetch a whore.

_The typical response I've come to love from you Bronn,_ he thought.

Tyrion was amused enough to give Bronn enough gold to get two of the more expensive whores that could be found on the Street of Silk. Bronn either did not notice or ignored the gesture, _of course._

It was several hours later when he was awoken by an angry impatient pounding at his door. Tyrion was not even given enough time to rise from bed before the door slammed open and Cersei strode into his temporary chambers.

"Whore, leave us now…. quickly!" Cersei bellowed with agitation.

Queen Cersei stood at the foot of the bed with dark circles beneath her eyes. She wore no makeup and her face was obviously red from tears. Her eyes however burned green like wildfire ready to consume the room and all in it. "What are you doing here creature?"

"Creature? That's a new one sister." Tyrion responded slowly as he stood on the bed and walked forward to give his sister a kiss on her cheek.

Cersei pushed him back onto the bed flat on his back; repulsion written across her face. "I asked you a question. What are you doing here?"

Tyrion yawned dramatically, hoping to irritate his sister. He was still exhausted; sleep would have been wonderful, but he could not deny himself the small pleasure of annoying Cersei. This often led to later misfortune, but Tyrion was helpless to it, even at such an inappropriate time.

Tyrion stood and stretched, extending the moment for as long as possible and then said, "Father sent me. The reports he's been receiving of your and Joffrey's actions in the capital had him worried. It seems he was right to be concerned."

Cersei glared, "I commanded him to return to King's Landing, not you. When I need someone to distract Stannis or Renly when they come to kill us; you may be of use. Otherwise I do not need or want you here."

"How many men has father sent with you? He should have at least done that much. "

Tyrion rolled his eyes as he replied, "I came with one hundred and fifty men. Fifty of those men are Lannister soldiers, the rest are mine own."

She shrieked, "Fifty! That is unacceptable! Father, he will realize what a mistake he's made sending you to King's Landing once he hears of my strong, handsome Joffrey. He'll ride as fast as he can with the entirety of the Westerlands troops to show those traitors the Iron Throne is still ours. Joffrey's death **will be** avenged! I will see the Starks annihilated, I will not be denied."

Tyrion sighed, _I'm definitely too tired to be dealing with this._"What do you think father is doing in the Riverlands, picking flowers and braiding his bannermen's hair? He's fighting the Starks already; a war which we are losing by the way. What of Jamie… or do you not care anymore?"

Cersei slapped him hard then; her nails left several marks across his cheek. Tyrion ran his hand across his face and felt the scratches as she hissed, "I love Jamie, you know absolutely nothing of love you little monster. Father will spend whatever gold needed to see his son is freed. Robb Stark's own bannermen will betray him and help Jamie escape for the promise of wealth. I have no doubt in this."

Tyrion's mouth fell open in shock and an ugly snort escape him, "Are you a complete fool Cersei? I heard the news of Sansa Stark when I was on the kingsroad. No doubt news has reached the Stark camp by now. Are you in denial or do you honestly believe Jamie still draws breath now that the Starks have word their princesses are dead. We have no leverage."

The fire in Cersei's eyes died then, but still she responded, "They would never kill Jamie, even if Robb Stark wishes it. The northern lords will know that our father will see the North burn for murdering his son. More than one lord will realize the wrath of the mighty Tywin Lannister is not worth killing Jamie; especially when one of those lords would be handsomely rewarded for returning him. They could even be pardoned by the Crown for rebelling with that boy."

Tyrion was drained; he had not the strength to argue further with his sister so he shrugged and said, "We shall see…"

They had their answer days later when Lord Quenten Banefort arrived at King's Landing. The lord had been released by Robb Stark after his capture at the Whispering Wood to deliver a message to Queen Cersei. The message had been transported in a carved wooden box with a Stark direwolf engraved at the top. A foul stench pervaded the room as the box was opened; the container was filled with shit and a rolled parchment was placed at the top of the pile.

The message read, "I have received news of the death of my sisters at the hands of your family. Seventeen years ago a different royal family and their king murdered my father's family. My father and those he called friends and loyal bannermen destroyed a three hundred year dynasty filled with madness and incest in response to these crimes.

On this day I follow in my father's footsteps; although I will not repeat his mistakes. I am not the merciful man my father was. I will see the Lannister family torn limb by limb until all that remains is an unrecognizable mess of bloody flesh.

From this day forward until the end of time The North is a free and independent people; our last act in the South will be to depose a family that has no right to **any** throne. The North does this to honor our betrayed and fallen kin at King's Landing ; and I do this to avenge my brother that was crippled, my father and sisters who were killed because you wanted to keep secret the truth of the abominations you call children.

In the final moments of your lover's life; Jamie admitted to being the true father of your children. He taunted me with the knowledge that he pushed my brother from the tower window hoping to kill him just to keep your crimes hidden.

The actions of you and your family in the past and present lead me to assume I will never be able to lay my father or sisters to rest beneath the crypts of Winterfell where they belong. To be separated from the ones you love forever s a cruel fate; allow me to offer this small kindness before I see you dead.

I give you a reunion with your brother and lover. In the box you will find what remains of the Kingslayer Jamie Lannister; my wolf was as hungry for Lannister blood as I am.

Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, King in the North. "

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><p><strong>Thank you to everyone who favoritedfollowed/reviewed my previous chapter. I appreciate the feedback. Next chapter will be Robb and will cover the events following his coronation as King in the North.**

**General Crow: Looks like most of your predictions are likely to be correct. Catelyn will not be traveling south to meet with Renly because of the news of the death of her girls. She is determined to get back to the boys in Winterfell. Robb will have to send another south. Jon has already taken his vows by this point in the story, but he will be abandoning his post after hearing of the death of his father and sisters. I think the added bloodshed of his sisters would prevent Jon from returning to Castle Black like in the show. If you know Jon's importance to the life of the Nights Watch then you can guess the ripple effect his departure will have.**

**Reikson: Thanks for the advice. Joffrey will be called mad quite a number of times throughout this story; But Cersei will probably be the one with a nickname attached to her madness. I was thinking Queen Rhaenyra II or King Maegor with teats the II.**

**Saint River: Thanks I appreciate the compliment. Cersei's got nothing on Sandor :]**

**Pop: Thanks, I'm glad you have enjoyed so far.**

**Little Ghost14: Really glad to hear you liked the sister background to tie Sandor with Sansa. I wasn't sure if it would be well received. I'm definitely a Sandor fan so I wanted to do a good job with his character.**

**et: Thanks, I would never consider myself as poetic, but I appreciate the kind words all the same.**

**Marah Lane: ha! I'm glad the formatting made things easier to read. :D I hope my Tyrion chapter does not disappoint.**

**Lady Katherine29: Thank you so much, I really appreciate you taking the time to write your feelings on the chapter. I don't know if we will see the rise of the Faith Militant like in the books, but the Faith will definitely be as you said, a wildcard. Yes, Varys will thrive in the chaos this all creates. I originally wanted to write him into this chapter, but that's going to have to wait until the next Tyrion chapter. Tyrion wants revenge on Littlefinger; Baelish might not be long for this world. Arya is still out there but basically no one knows she is alive at this point. Well Tyrion does, he just hasn't realized he has that information yet. :}**


	4. Do You Traverse the Darkness Alone?

**So this chapter and the past three have taken place at roughly the same time give a few days or so. The death of a king would be news that effects the entire Seven Kingdoms and I imagine would spread throughout Westeros faster than the average message; however I believe there would still have been some misinformation or delay to make for travel leaving some people in the dark longer than others. I hope this hasn't been too confusing to read for you guys, I've been worried this may end up being the case. Please let me know if I've made some mistake and the timeline needs clarity. Sorry, should have had this written days ago,but I've been spending my free time playing Majora's Mask ha. Everything belongs to George R.R. Martin; this is his house, I just broke into the backyard to swim in the pool.**

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><p>Blanched knuckles clenched the uneven makeshift table within his personal pavilion. Drops of blood trickled to hard brown earth below and blended with the dirt beneath his marred travel-worn leather boots. He did not sense the splintered slivers of table embedded into his palms or the lazily gathering red puddle at his feet. Robb Stark's sight blistered against flickering candlelight as his incensed eyes converged on opulent characters scribed into parchment.<p>

Lord Stannis Baratheon, no King Stannis Baratheon as he now proclaimed himself, had dispatched ravens throughout the Seven Kingdoms of the revelation Robb's father had lost his life to discern. Joffrey Baratheon was no true king, nor was he a true Baratheon. The prick had been an abomination conceived of the incestuous coupling of Cersei and Jamie Lannister; all three children in fact were of the same tainted bloodline. Joffrey was burning in seven Hells, Tommen could be no king, and thus Stannis was now rightful king.

His father had died in an attempt to grant mercy to those children; his honor would have left no other choice. He betrayed that honor and called himself a traitor to try and save the children he loved. Robb knew there could be no other cause to what had befallen his family. Lord Eddard Stark had always wielded his honor like a shield carried into battle; but when the fighting actually started the cumbersome burden of that shield had only weighed his father down.

The Reach had sent their own ravens days and days earlier proclaiming Renly to be King of the Seven Kingdoms, and urging all lords to lend their support. Although they made no mention of the incest; Robb thought perhaps it didn't matter so much when you were still the youngest brother. He remembered the stories of Stannis his father had told him and Jon when they were boys and had been curious about the brothers of King Robert.

Lord Stannis Baratheon was always described as grim, unflinching, and dutiful above all else. He was not a man that made friends with other nobles; and his abrasive character ensured he never won the hearts of the smallfolk and soldiers. Unfortunately for Stannis, the man did not share the charming personality of his brothers; but he was still Renly's older brother.

Renly had exploited that weakness and usurped a staggering amount of the fighting strength Stannis would surely need to claim his throne. He had also won himself the might and bountiful harvests of Highgarden by marrying himself to an ambitious Lord Paramount's daughter. Renly Baratheon may not have had any right to the Iron Throne, but he was certainly winning the support to make himself king regardless.

Trueborn brothers and yet Renly had betrayed the bonds of family. Renly had decided to try and take the throne like Robert before him. He had done what Robb's mother had always feared Jon or his imagined children or grandchildren would one day attempt. Jon was not Renly though; Jon was a far better man.

Robb missed his brother and best friend wildly; and he was having a hard time moving past his mother's hatred born of fear that forced Jon from Winterfell and his life. Robb loved his mother of course, but she never stopped to envisage the damaging consequences of her choices as she tried safeguarding only those she considered family. Sansa and Arya had become casualties of her attempts to avenge Bran. So much had happened and Jon should have been here to avenge their family with him; they were both the sons of Lord Eddard Stark. Instead Jon was far away still in the North and he was in the South fighting a war alone.

Robb finally released clutched hands from splintered wood as he turned to walk outside his pavilion. The night sky was clouded and the only light arose from candles and torches of the tents throughout the encampment. He nodded to the men-at-arms, the knights, and other camp followers he passed, but otherwise did not engage with his men. His father had always told him it was important to talk with and know those who serve you; but this night Robb's mind was plagued with questions only one man had answers to. He would speak with him alone.

The Kingslayer appeared to Robb as a crumbling statue; a forgotten relic of a long conquered kingdom in the likeness of a ruler none remembered or recognized. His once golden hair was now brown from all the dirt that had congealed in his hair. The tunic and breeches he wore had become rotting strips of fabric stinking of excrement and filth. Jamie's face was hollow from hunger; and the mud-caked beard he had grown made him appear unrecognizable. His eyes however; the green orbs still blazed with the defiance he had seen the day he captured the Kingslayer at the Whispering Wood.

When Robb opened the cage he was immediately taunted by Jamie for taking him from camp to camp rather than leaving him in a cell. "Are you growing fond of me Stark?" Jamie asked with a facetious smile.

Robb knew the reputation of Lord Tywin Lannister was too fierce and far spread to leave such a valuable piece of bait to the care of any bannermen. If a house was not tempted by the riches of Casterly Rock; the history of the Reynes or Tarbecks could likely be enough to have the Kingslayer freed. With him and his army, Jamie remained secure; as well as a considerable distraction to Cersei and Lord Tywin Lannister.

Robb wanted to use the knowledge gained from Lord Stannis' letter in an attempt to gain clarity on the events at Winterfell and King's Landing that had led to so much needless death throughout the Riverlands. He looked for some sort of twitch or spark of fear in the eyes as he told Jamie that Westeros knew he had fathered Cersei's children. His prisoner simply laughed and said, "Well that's convenient for Stannis. That claim makes him the rightful king."

The Kingslayer's mocking demeanor aggravated Robb; He wanted to see that defiance flicker and die out as he ran a sword through the man's chest. But he needed the truth to pass from the oath breaker's lips at least once before he could take his life.

Robb knew Joffrey executed The Hand so he could keep the truth of his parents hidden by removing anyone who learned the truth. Jon Arryn had also been murdered for the secret. He was sure Jamie pushed Bran from the tower in Winterfell because Bran saw the Lannister twins wrapped around one another. The Kingslayer must have realized his frustrations because Jamie simply taunted and said, "Without any proof, all this is just gossip."

Robb sensed Grey Wind's approach before Jamie took notice of the wolf's footsteps. The wolf stalked through filth and camp belongings; Grey Wind remained silent despite his teeth being exposed in a snarl the direwolf bared. Only when Jamie realized the wolf's presence did Grey Wind make a sound. Robb was amazed how Grey wind always seemed to pick up on his anger or other emotions; the wolf would reflect these emotions in his actions

Grey Wind showed nothing but a desire to kill. He was certain his wolf would have torn out the Kingslayer's throat had he not run his fingers through Grey Wind's soft fur coat as the direwolf approached the cage's entrance. Robb knew he would have delighted in the sight; but tactical advantage was more important at the moment than vengeance.

He left the Kingslayer to his cage and grime; upset, alone, and discontent Robb went in search of Theon, hoping his cheerful but crude sense of humor might ease his burdens if but for a moment. When he found Theon, his friend was all titles and called Robb, his grace. He was in no mood for it and asked he be addressed as Robb.

Unfortunately, his friend was absent for the evening and Robb was in the company of a vassal seeking favor. Theon wished to be sent to Pyke to speak with his father about bringing the Greyjoy fleet to give the North superior strength at sea. Robb knew a fleet of ships would be a tremendous asset to the war, he knew such an alliance might turn the tide of fighting and bring an early end to the war; but so much was uncertain and Robb sought out Theon to avoid such decisions for the evening not face more.

Robb hoped to end the conversation by reminding Theon that his father had fought against his in the Greyjoy Rebellion; Lord Balon would not likely help the son of the man who had taken his sons. Theon was not deterred however and insisted that his father would listen to his only living son and heir. The words stirred something in Robb; and he was reminded of the sword that had loomed above Theon's head his entire life at Winterfell. There was a reason he had always been kept close.

Theon reminded him that Eddard Stark raised him, he knew what it meant to be an honorable man, and together they could avenge Lord Stark. Robb remembered a childhood spent with his best friend, someone to always have his back; he wanted that feeling again.

Robb left Theon not soon after, desperate to be gone from another decision. He wandered the camps aimlessly for some time until his feet eventually brought him to his mother's pavilion. The tent was dark and no candles were lit beside the torch at the entrance. His mother had probably already gone to bed and he was ready to return to his own tent when a voice called out to him.

"Robb..." a small broken whisper called out to him.

The call was his mother's; he still had trouble recognizing the transformation grief had twisted within the voice that had once brought him such nourishment. His mother blamed herself for the deaths of Arya and Sansa; Robb had terrible moments where he blamed his mother as well. He hated himself for the thought and usually tried avoiding his mother since they had learned of the girls.

He always had his mother to turn to for advice, so somehow lost in his doubts he had once again found himself with the one person he had always depended on. "Robb..." the voice called again, much stronger this time, much more like his mother.

Robb pushed the heavy dark cloth aside and entered the pavilion. The absence of candlelight kept his mother's face in darkness but when he sat in the chair closest to his mother he could see red wet eyes. He took her hand into his when she spoke, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of the girls... and of Bran... and Rickon. I Think it is time for me to return home Robb. The boys need me. I need them."

Robb could feel his mother's grief in each word, the broken hopelessness made him wince. The boy in him wanted his mother by his side; but he could no longer indulge that boy. Robb knew it was for the best to let his mother return home so he squeezed her hand and agreed.

Only moments passed before Robb blurted out, "Theon asked me to send him to Pyke to make an alliance with his father for the Greyjoy fleet. The Ironborn could win us the war, but I'm conflicted. I don't think father would ever trust a man like Balon Greyjoy."

His mother was quick to reply, "No he would not, because Balon Greyjoy is untrustworthy. There is a good reason your father has had to keep Theon all these years."

She gave him a stern fixed stare before she said, "Listen to me Robb, trust the Greyjoys and you will regret it. I have no doubt in this."

Theon was his friend, Theon was different he wanted to say; but Robb chose to keep his mouth closed, he knew his mother would not hear of it. His mother ruled beside his father for years; perhaps she had the right of it. Robb reluctantly agreed with his mother's advice, then spoke of what else had been troubling him in the night. "Stannis has sent ravens throughout Westeros proclaiming himself to be rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Well that makes more sense than Renly I suppose, but I think both of them are forgetting Joffrey has a younger brother." His mother replied uninterested.

Robb cleared his throat before he spoke again, "Stannis... he spoke of a letter written to him from father just before his death. It explains everything, what Bran saw in that tower that needed to be kept hidden, why father was executed a traitor accused of trying to take the throne. It explains the cruelties Joffrey inflicted upon Sansa and Arya. We've been carrying the answer to all our questions from camp to camp; Stannis' letter was just the last piece of the puzzle we needed to realize it."

His mother's voice was steel, gone was the broken tone of earlier when she said the name, "Jamie Lannister."

The revelation of the letter had troubled his mother and she asked to be left alone. Robb returned to his own tent and spent what felt like ages staring into the ceiling from his bed. He could not sleep but attempted to do so anyways desperately welcoming of the comfort of silence. Instead he was given the sound of footsteps rushing to his tent not much later.

Lord Roose Bolton entered the pavilion alone, a fair amount of blood was splattered against his surcoat; the red stood out against the pale light of the candles on his desk. When he spoke Lord Bolton's voice held no emotion, "Your grace, its Lady Catelyn Stark... something has happened with her and the Kingslayer. You should come at once."

Robb leaped from bed and grabbed his sword; had the Kinglslayer escaped, had he done something to his mother? Robb's thoughts were in knots; his body was unresponsive and stiff. He feared the worst and rushed out into the night unprepared for what was to come.

When he arrived with Lord Bolton, Robb was confused, unsure of what he was seeing. His mother was drenched in blood, but otherwise looked unharmed. Grey Wind lay at her feet sleeping satisfied. His coat was filthy with bits of flesh... and blonde hairs? Robb liked this less and less. He slowly approached his mother and took a knee before her. "Mother...? What has happened?"

She saw through him for a moment, before realizing his presence and whispering "I got the truth. I made him pay."

Dread coiled around him, "Who?... Who did you make pay?"

His mother said nothing, and after a long silence it was Roose who answered. "I came across Lady Stark feeding what remained of Jamie Lannister to the wolf."

Lord Bolton's response stirred something in his mother and she replied once more, "The wolf helped me get the truth. They were sent to us by the gods to protect us. Ned's gods."

He could not believe it; Jamie had been his. He had needed the truth from the Kingslayer before he could have the satisfaction of his death. This was all wrong. His mother had taken everything, Robb lost control and shouted, "I needed him! I held Tywin Lannister's weakness; I had exactly what I needed to see him crushed. I told everyone he was not to be harmed; and yet of all people it is my mother who betrays my orders. Who will follow me when my own mother will not?"

"Alive and captured, Jamie was a distraction to Tywin Lannister. This death will only bring us Tywin's vengeance. You have destroyed what I've been working towards, and worse you used my wolf to do it; just to assuage your guilt."

Lord Bolton interrupted then, saving Robb from saying anything further to hurt his mother. He was annoyed, but knew he would have likely said something in anger he would regret later. "Your grace, this can be salvaged. The Kingslayer's death may not distract Tywin, but it will bring Cersei Lannister to despair. This news can cripple her rule at King's Landing if delivered effectively. I would be glad to be of service."

Robb was lost; Lord Bolton's help was too tempting to refuse. He had never expected this. His father would never seek aid from a man like Roose Bolton, but perhaps it was time he tried something different. Thinking of family had been failing him lately it seemed.

He thought of his father and Stannis. Robb was certain his father would have declared for King Stannis. Eddard Stark's sense of honor would have demanded no less. However Robb had been crowned a king by his own people, he had them to think of before he could any other. Stannis Baratheon would never recognize the North as independent; he lacked the resources to make what he wanted really matter anyways.

If Robb had any chance of making sure his kingdom remained independent from the others it would be with Renly Baratheon. He had the men, he had the will to bend things to his desire, and had no issues with the North. Together they could make quick work of what remained of Lannister control and his Northerners could return home much sooner than expected.

His mother said he could not trust the Greyjoys, but tonight proved she had been damaged by this war and he could not count on her word. His mother wanted blood and so she saw enemies everywhere. Theon was his friend, a friend that way loyal to **him**. He needed Renly more than he would need Balon's ships, despite the temptation. Robb knew Theon was the only one left to him he could trust enough in sending to Renly Baratheon seeking an alliance.

He would have to send his mother home with an armored escort, there was no place for her here. He just worried what he would be sending home to his brothers. He feared it wouldn't be the mother they remembered. Tired but determined, Robb called for a squire to fetch Lord Bolton. They had a letter to write and send Cersei. The sooner he could move from this mess, the better. Robb Stark stood in his tent, King in the North, alone.

* * *

><p><strong>A bad night for Robb Stark...<strong>

**It was always obvious to everyone that Jamie was going to die in response to the death of Sansa Stark. Still I believe Robb would have kept him alive for a little while longer because the hope of freeing Jamie from capture would have been a valuable weapon to use against Tywin. Now all he gets is Tywin's wrath. **

**Anyways, I wanted to do something surprising with Jamie's death since I knew his death was so expected. Having Jamie eaten by a wolf is shocking, but I felt it wasn't going to be enough. Catelyn's actions make the entire thing bittersweet. Robb wasn't there to see him die or hear the truth he wanted from Jamie's lips. He's lost faith in family because he feels betrayed by his mother. His victory became a mess he had to clean up.  
><strong>

**Next Chapter will be either Theon/Jon/or Tyrion. I honestly haven't decided yet which one to do, and they don't need to be posted in any particular order. Any suggestions?**

**Thank you to everyone who favorites/follows/reviews... reading the feedback is a big help. **

**Master of Dragons God: Thank you, I'll try ha.**

**Reikson: Okay then, guess I won't be using those. I like the idea of deliberately excluding the title of Queen. Jon will be riding south to reunite with Robb; but as a deserter he's gonna have a hard trip ahead. **

**Saint River: Thanks. The rumors being spread is that Sandor is traveling somewhere along the Kingsroad North; but at the end of his chapter he was headed into the Kingswood. So who is trying to spread rumor that the Hound has gone North and why? More to be revealed later on Sandor. Yeah Robb won't be having the discontent among his lords he had in the show, but that doesn't mean all will be well for the King in the North. **

**LadyKatherine29: Thanks again. ha yeah Cersei is going to get pretty weird after losing both Joffrey and Jamie. If I ever change this story to an M rating it will most likely be because of her. I feel Dorne would be content to just wait at this point, probably won't be hearing from them for a while. Roose Bolton will have Robb's ear this time around rather than being constantly ignored. I'm not sure if he will be more dangerous now. Probably. **

**jean d'arc: Thank you I appreciate the feedback. **

**Dovah-wolfbear64: Thanks. Yes definite denial from Cersei; she also seems to have a habit of severely underestimating what those against her will do. Her grief is just making it worse. That letter will definitely have its intended effect against Cersei, next Tyrion chapter will show the beginnings of that madness. This chapter will be probably the closest I will go towards describing Jamie's death. Just know it wasn't pretty. **

**Birdy1210: Thank you, glad to hear. Arya already knows of Sansa's fate when Tyrion passes by Yoren and the Night Watch recruits in the previous chapter. This is why Yoren is so quick to leave Tyrion's company and why Tyrion feels a pair of glaring grey eyes on him. Arya somehow amazingly keeps quiet and doesn't yell or attack Tyrion during this encounter. The Night Watch group had just passed through the Ivy Inn when Tyrion encountered them; the same inn where he learns of Sansa and Joffrey. Arya will be reunited with her family; but I have no plans of making her a POV character. Arya will appear again in other characters chapters. **

**Guest: Ha, yeah death by wolf is pretty brutal. **

**General Crow: haha she definitely does; her madness will only make it worse. I think I'm gonna have a lot of fun writing Cersei in this fic. Sorry but Robb will be keeping his promise to marry a Frey. I hate the GOT Talisa character, she will not be included. Being betrayed by Theon and him killing Bran and Rickon is what leads Robb to the impetuous action of sleeping with Jeyne Westerling; so I don't think I will be including her either. I like her much more than Talisa so if it were to be one of the two, it would be Jeyne. With Arya returning, she will have a Frey to marry too. Catelyn is going to be fighting that arrangement though. Theon will be going to treat with Renly for Robb; still a bad idea but a change that will have different consequences. Stannis will be Stannis, not much change there. Joffrey's death just forces him to start earlier. Ah... Daenerys, I haven't decided whether I should include her in this story or not. She isn't something to worry about just yet, as she is still wandering the Red Waste. I really dislike her character and I feel if I wrote anything that would really bleed through. If I can think of something that will really work with the story she may enter at a later time; but for now I've been looking elsewhere for ideas on bringing dragons into the story. I want there to be dragons ha.**

**Vatsyayana69: I appreciate you taking the time to leave feedback, thanks :) **

**Maester Aemon: The Westerlands shall burn. Roose and Robb are going to team up. A lot of death ahead.**

**Ojha: Thanks. You'll get your wish, Roose is going to become quite a close adviser to Robb. He'll be influencing a lot of Robb's upcoming choices. It might be a while, but I am excited to continue with Sandor as well. **

**Flick: The box contained the note and shit. No body parts in the box. Hope that clears things up :]**

**Guest: Thank you, but my updates will most likely always be infrequent sorry.**

**OBSERVER01: haha, well Tyrion is going to be very important in this fic so you may just get your wish.**

**KnightOfHolyLight: Awesome, I'm glad you've enjoyed so far. Well Catelyn will still be causing some discord... Her believing to know best is after all a big part of her character. You are correct, Tyrion is going to be able to accomplish things he would never have been able to in the show because of circumstances. Tywin's return to King's Landing will be a much different one to that of the show. Tyrion will have a list of people to pay for the death of Jamie, you can be sure of that. **


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